


Unexpected Mishaps

by BlueEyedArcher



Series: Satyr Geoffrey AU [1]
Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Animal Ears, Fae & Fairies, Fauns & Satyrs, Fluff and Humor, Horns, Hurt/Comfort, Learning to be Human, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Satyr Geoffrey, Tails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:13:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27144334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher
Summary: Geoffrey messes with an old relic he doesn't understand and is faced with a dilemma.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum & Jonathan Reid, Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Series: Satyr Geoffrey AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983311
Comments: 7
Kudos: 37





	Unexpected Mishaps

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tekopyhyys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tekopyhyys/gifts).



> This was a request by Teko, Memento_Mori2 and Oreneta from the Pembroke Hospital Vampyr server and I had a lot of fun with it and some more fun planned for later oneshots related to it. Based on the wonderful art by Teko of Satyr Geoffrey.
> 
> https://twitter.com/syntisyys/status/1319027969118097412

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Geoffrey to wake up feeling like he spent the night with a bottle shoved down his throat as booze flowed and good spirits followed. The throbbing headache and bone deep ache of poor decisions was a familiar friend whether he liked its untimely visits or not. Tonight, though, it was a cause for concern given the fact he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in a couple days. Much of his efforts had been devoted to trying to transcribe a strange relic he’d found in Priwen’s archives, which required his wits about him, as much as he’d prefer a drink at the end of the night. What, at first glance looked like an incredibly old form of Gaelic, turned out to be utter nonsense.

“Fecking hell. Maybe O’Connor was right bout straining mahself.” He slurred his words as he mustered the energy to get up. He cursed the thought that he caught some bug from digging around in that dusty old attic. God forbid the previous command staff ever clean the damn place up. Carl was a brilliant mind that led Priwen to do great things, but organization was obviously not one of them.

As he tried to navigate the mess of blankets tangled around his legs, Geoffrey felt an unusual stiffness in his knees. As if they had locked up on him and he couldn’t get them to relax. Sitting up slowly, he drew the blankets back to stare groggily at the problem at hand, wadding the fabric up in his grasp as he stared. He couldn’t exactly explain what it was he was seeing as his sleep addled brain tried to decipher the information it was greeted with. Legs, like that of a goat, long and furry and dark brown with black hooves that caught the sheets up in a mess. He moved his legs and they kicked in response. He rolled his own leg to the side and these strange ones followed. To some degree. A twinge of pain arched up his hips as he tried to move them out of the bed. The resounding clop as they hit the wood boards was the final straw.

“O’Connor!” Geoffrey yelled at the top of his lungs. A sure sound that his second in command will hear through the shitty thin walls of Priwen’s headquarters. It was followed by hasty heavy footfalls mounting the steps as each board groaned under the weight of the bear sized Irishman. Every second that passed felt like minutes as Geoffrey waited for the anticipated knock on the door before it parted.

“Everything alright sir?” The man asked as he fit his broad frame through the doorway and stopped. His gaze fell to stare at Geoffrey’s legs. Surprisingly, the man was calm as he took in the change, taking a step closer as he examined the hoofs and the small white spots that speckled his fur. Geoffrey raised his hand to card through his hair in a hasty nervous gesture and stopped when his hand was obstructed by something rounded and small. His fingers inspected the abnormality and-

“O’Connor, what is on my head? Do I? Do I have fecking horns?” This had to be some weird fever dream or leechy mind trick. This couldn’t be happening. He had _horns._ Why does he have horns? What happened?

“And ears, sir.” O’Connor explained, reaching up to take his leader’s wrists in hand and draw them away. “Take a deep breath sir. Stay calm.”

“HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO STAY CALM?!” Geoffrey shamelessly shouted, his lips drawn back into a snarl as he pulled his hands out of O’Connor’s grasp and patted at his head. The ears were long, velvety soft and droopy. _God had truly forsaken him. He was a goat!_

“Come on sir.” O’Connor urged, taking his hands again before he started to pull at his ears. Geoffrey looked at his second and ground his teeth at the man. “Try standing up.”

“I can stand up fine on my own!” Geoffrey snapped, yanking his hands free as he scowled at the ground. O’Connor held his hands up in a placating manner and took a couple respectful steps back. His uncertainty set in as he tried to get his hooves underneath him and stand. Easier said than done, as he pushed himself up from the bed with a sudden sharp shove. He was upright, for all of three seconds before he started to fall forwards into O’Connor. His second reached out and caught him by his shoulders before Geoffrey plopped down to the floor. His knees started to buckle now that they appeared to figure out how to bend under the weight, and he cursed. A sharp noise pressed between his teeth as the larger Irishman manhandled him onto the bed once more.

“I don’t need help.” Geoffrey growled.

“Mmhmm. So you called me in here to just enjoy the show? How kind, sir.” Geoffrey glared at his second, the sarcasm dripping from his lips as the larger man folded his arms over his chest and gave him that stern look that made him feel like a child scolded for scrapping at school.

“Feck off.” Geoffrey growled, but he didn’t mean it and O’Connor was well aware of his temper. He waited patiently as Geoffrey mustered the strength to try again, drawing himself up to stand slower this time. He kept one hand on the bedframe to steady himself until he felt secure enough to let go. His legs wobbled for a few heart thundering seconds.

“There you go.” O’Connor praised. The thought was short lived as Geoffrey straightened his back and his legs buckled on him once more. O’Connor sighed. “We should send for Dr. Reid.”

“We are not calling the leech doctor!” Geoffrey blurted as he dragged himself back up using the bedframe. His arms trembled with the effort as he shot daggers at O’Connor who tossed his hands up in the air in surrender. 

“Fine.” He relented and gestured at Geoffrey. “Would you like for some help sir?”

“No.” Geoffrey grunted. “Just...stay there.”

“Right.” His second sighed and waited.

This really shouldn’t be so hard, Geoffrey thought. Just one leg after another. Even newborn foals could do it seconds after birth. Why couldn’t he? He’s been walking upright all his life. He just needed to get his balance. He took a careful breath and forced his body to relax. His shoulders sank and his fingers unfurled from the white knuckled appearance he had them locked in. He leaned his weight, feeling the structural integrity of his legs underneath him as he took one careful step and straightened up.

“This takes a lot more concentration than I thought.” Geoffrey huffed as he balanced, one arm outstretched to help him as he took one careful step after another using the bed frame as an additional boost.

“Good job sir.” O’Connor hummed as Geoffrey took another step. He miscalculated the movement causing his knees to clang with the corner of the bed. The edge dug into the sensitive nerve of his kneecap causing him to yelp and buckle, falling to the floor in a heap of hooves and fur. He flattened out on the boards and hissed. His vision was a pop of white as searing pain cut across his forehead just underneath his horns.

“That’s it, I’m calling Dr. Reid. Yer bleeding and have lost yer senses sir.” O’Connor grunted as he bent over to collect Geoffrey into his arms and put him back up on his bed. The action felt odd as O’Connor’s hand brushed against what felt like his tailbone but the hunter couldn’t tell. His senses must be fuzzy from the ordeal. It wasn’t until he was sitting down that he twisted to have a look and discovered, yes, he had a fluffy little brown and white tail. The mortification worsened when he realized he was already naked as the day he was born (fur aside).

“I don’t need the leech doctor.” Geoffrey spoke again but there wasn’t much heat left in his words as he gave up.

“What you need is some clothes and a bite to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.” Geoffrey grunted, fisting the blanket up in his grasp and haphazardly tugging it over his lap out of modesty. He was well aware of the sensation of his ears hanging by the sides of his face like dark shadows in his peripheral. It took every ounce of will not to shake his head with the fragile hope they’ll just fall off and everything will be back to normal.

“Ya need to keep yer strength up sir.” There was a finality to the declaration that made Geoffrey give in once more. He flopped back against his pillow, mindful of the bleeding as O’Connor dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and passed it over to the hunter to stem the bleeding. “Sit tight and I’ll be back.”

“Not like I can go anywhere.” Geoffrey huffed through his teeth and squinted at the ceiling. As his second in command exited the room, he could hear the sound of voices murmuring through the dusty floorboards. As small and close knitted they were, Geoffrey’s fears came rushing up on him as to how the rest of Priwen will react to their leader’s new appearance. “Will they think me an abomination?”

Of course he had O’Connor’s support at his back but the larger Irishman was a basket of strange from the moment he joined Priwen, so his lackadaisical reaction was in character for the great bear that kept a rat and spoke to ghosts like it were normal practice. Maybe a few hundred years ago when keeping the Good Neighbors happy was common practice for folks, the superstitious habits were second nature, ingrained into everyday life. 

He doubted O’Connor’s support alone would keep the rest of Priwen from turning against him. Bishop was a loyal Chaplain and friend, but his promises to God may intervene with that now. Babic and Bonner were up in the air, and he could only imagine the mortified looks of the recruits as they fell into a fit of panic. The rest of the lads could go either way, but Geoffrey’s mind saw it for only the negativity.

His thoughts had drifted until Geoffrey felt the sticky warmth of his blood through the handkerchief as he adjusted the fabric. His arm ached from the posture, causing him to squirm around. His hooves dragged roughly against the sheets giving cause for concern on whether he’ll rip them if he wasn’t careful.

“Sir.” O’Connor called through the door before entering at the sound of his grunt. Geoffrey didn’t care to look up at his second while he let himself in. “Dr. Reid is on his way. Here, I brought you some clothes and something to eat.”

The hunter peered over at that and frowned. Hanging off of O’Connor’s arm was one of Bishop’s kilts with red and black patterning. Of course, he wasn’t against the kilt itself, and had worn one a few times over the years but he’d rather not resort to borrowing clothes from his head Chaplain. Besides, he was hoping for a pair of pants in some vain hope that he could hide his new legs until he could find a way to go back to normal. In O’Connor’s other hand was a bowl of goulash with a slice of bread balanced on the rim. He passed the food over first, setting it carefully in Geoffrey’s lap as he urged the hunter to eat then moved the kilt to rest on the edge of the bed.

Geoffrey accepted the bowl but simply stirred his spoon around in idle circles. His appetite was lacking despite logic urging him to eat something. It smelled enticing at least and he knew O’Connor’s cooking never failed to satisfy. He took a couple bites and let it settle, finding no adverse effects from his stomach, he continued to eat with a grumbled. “Least I won’t need to eat weeds or some shite like that.”

“That’s a good start to looking on the bright side, sir.” O’Connor chimed.

“Aye, not much of a bright side though.”

O’Connor disregarded the thought as he glanced around the room as if searching for something. “Now, sir, do you recall seeing anything strange at all lately?”

“Other than myself, no.” Geoffrey grunted. “Why?”

“Well, this isn’t exactly something that could happen by accident sir. Someone or something did this with intent.” O’Connor tried to carefully word his thoughts but it only struck Geoffrey with a bristle of annoyance.

“I’m not foolish enough to go messing with magical shite!” The hunter snapped. O'Connor appeared to consider this a losing battle and rescinded any further questions. Geoffrey poked at his food before losing his appetite once more entirely.

"Sir-" Whatever the larger man was going to say, it had been interrupted by a knock from the other side of the door. Neither man recalled hearing the footsteps creaking up the stairwell or down the long hallway leading to Geoffrey's office, drawing tension in the hunter's shoulders.

"Who is it?" He barked, sharing a curious look with O'Connor before both their eyes turned to the doorway once more. 

"Dr. Reid." The leech called back, causing Geoffrey to bristle again and scowl shoot a look at his second. The other man appeared unbothered as he made his way to invite the ekon into the room. Reid started to speak as the door opened for him, and stepped inside with a wary glance. Brows knitted with concern as he continued. "I came as quickly as I could but you didn't specify the problem so my preparations are limi- oh."

"Ya just gonna stand there like I'm some sort of freak show, eh?" Geoffrey growled and turned his attention away from the two men to stare into the half eaten bowl. He had half a mind to throw it with how lousy he felt but logic dictated it to be a waste and he would genuinely feel bad for it right after. Priwen didn't often have the rations to spare for wasteful tendencies and he's had enough instances of an empty belly to know better.

"Do you know how this happened?" Jonathan spoke in a low voice with O'Connor by the door, a sympathetic glance directed Geoffrey's way which he noticed past the awkward shadow of his own ear in his peripheral vision.

"I wished upon a fecking star. How else do you think this happened?" Sarcasm dripped heavily from his lips as he inspected the two men with mild disdain for all the whispers and murmurs they harbored. Maybe he was being cranky about it but he was pretty sure he had a grande reason to feel that way, all things considered.

Jonathan approached his bed with a thoughtful look, his lips drawn into a line. He had that look on his face like he was working the gears around to figure out a confounding puzzle. “Tell me, McCullum, everything you did these past few days.”

“Nothing aside from the usual.” Geoffrey shrugged as he thought back on it, explaining as he went. How he oversaw Bishop’s training with the new recruits and taught a few lessons along the way. As they took a break, he went with O’Connor to make deliveries to the other outposts then picked up a few tools they’d been meaning to collect for fixing up the storehouse roof before Winter hit hard. The rest of the time he spent digging through the old storerooms trying to organize everything Carl left behind.

“Did you find anything specific? Anything you touched most recently?” O’Connor asked, having moved closer as the hunter relayed the last three days to them.

“Just some relic. It’s on my desk over there.” He pointed at the leather wrapped object, blocky and wooden but very very old. It had faded inscriptions that Geoffrey had mistaken for Gaelic and had given up any hope of translating without help.

O’Connor stiffened when he unwrapped the item, careful not to touch it directly through the leather padding, he turned to face Geoffrey with wide eyes. “Did you try to read the inscription out loud?”

“Aye, why?” He had worked the words around in his mouth but they didn’t sound natural to him as his tongue tied up around the syllables. “Is that bad?”

“Not necessarily no. It's not _evil_ but there is trickery at work here. This relic belongs to the fair folk.” O’Connor explained, gently wrapping it back up. “It's not meant for men. From what I can see of the item itself, it contains a precious instrument that beings much like you resemble would often use to herald nature with.”

“What do you think would have happened had he opened it?” Jonathan was the one to voice the question Geoffrey felt sick in considering.

“He would be stuck like that forever.” O’Connor rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “Thankfully you hadn’t. You’ll turn back to yer old self in time sir. What you’re experiencing was a trick the fair folk played to warn those not meant for it away.”

“You’re quite knowledgeable on these things, Mr. O’Connor.” Jonathan praised.

“Aye, he’s Priwen’s expert on weird shite like that. Used to be his job to gather relics of the like and bring them back.” Geoffrey bobbed his head towards the one on the desk. “Similar to that.”

“This one I’ve never seen personally but I’ve read one account bout similar ones found and unpleasantness ensuing. It’s otherwise harmless, just don’t go reading the language.” He straightened up. “Well, I’ll head back to check on the lads. Take care of him Dr. Reid.”

“Certainly, Mr. O’Connor.”

“Do I not get a say here?” Geoffrey blurted.

“Afraid not sir. Yer too much of a stubborn arse to accept help when you need it most. At the moment, your opinion has been overruled.” It was in jest, Geoffrey knew that as O’Connor smiled in his direction. A light hearted little quip that had eased his nerves a bit, especially knowing he wont’ be stuck like this for the rest of his life. It would be a bit too hard to hunt with hooves clopping and stomping around.

It wasn’t much of a surprise as Jonathan was quick to get to work, already carrying the necessary supplies to tend to the wound on his forehead. He wiped away the blood and placed a clean dry bandage over top. He was careful to navigate around Geoffrey’s ears and horns, his fingers gently brushing the tip of his right ear, causing it to flick on reflex. The act made the doctor stop and stare, causing Geoffrey’s face to heat up in embarrassment as he watched the doctor by his side.

“If I may be so bold to ask, how did you hurt yourself?” Jonathan inquired gently.

“Fell tryin to walk.”

“You’re having trouble walking?” Jonathan was startled by that news as he did another quick glance over the hunter. Having finished tending to the wound above his brow, Jonathan lowered his hand to the edge of the blanket. “May I?”

“I’d rather you didn’t but not much is going my way today so might as well add this to top it off.” His voice was softer now as his gaze fell to stare at the blanket with forced indifference. As much as he’d like to snap, bark and yell about it, he was running out of energy to keep that wall up between him and the rest of the world. It was easier when he could deal with everything with gruff indifference but now the microscope was focused directly on him and he felt like a raw nerve under the doctor’s gaze.

“Geoffrey, you know I will always take your comfort into consideration.” The leech doctor was sincere without fault, as he often always was but Geoffrey still felt dismissive towards the sympathy in his eyes. The gentle hand that fell to his shoulder was the final straw as he broke.

“I’m a bloody beast, Reid. Look at me.” Geoffrey admitted, his ears hung pathetically as he released a shuddering breath he’d been holding in. Jonathan’s expression softened as the hunter brushed his palm over his eyes to quickly hide the tears that slipped free. “No telling how long it’ll be before I’m me again.”

“Is being a beast so bad?” Jonathan asked gently, coming to kneel by the bedside as he peered up at the hunter to meet his gaze. Geoffrey averted his to avoid those pale blue eyes that drew him in and stole his thoughts right out of his head. “We can still defy our natures and be more human than others expect. Fur and fangs and all.”

Geoffrey pursed his lips together and let his shoulders tremble with the wound up tide of emotions still swelling over him. It was a process, he knew it. When something so upsetting happens in one’s life, there was layers to it all and he felt like he was drowning at the prospect of never being human again. Of losing his livelihood. He let out another shuddering breath which was accompanied by a startling bleat of distress.

Both the hunter and the ekon stopped and stared at each other with combined looks of shock, eyes wide as the awkwardness settled in the air. Geoffrey’s face turned redder than a tomato while Jonathan stifled a laugh of amusement. He busied himself instead by petting a hand over Geoffrey’s hair, causing his ears to flick and his head to tilt into the soft touch. His scalp tingled as each gentle brush of fingers over the flat of his ears left a pleasant wave of warmth sweeping over him. His shoulders released their tension as Jonathan reassured the hunter with softer words and kind praise for his efforts, eventually talking him into giving walking a second try if only to try and put on the kilt on his own.

“I want a normal pair of pants.” Geoffrey bartered.

To which Jonathan countered easily with. “Alright, but you have to walk to the dresser to get them. Then I’ll let you.”

It became a comedy as Geoffrey clung to Jonathan’s forearm to steady himself as the hunter took one unsteady step after another. His balance was awful and his knees threatened with weakness but he worked his way towards his dresser with triumphant uncertain steps that left him out of breath. Jonathan was courteous of his comfort and kept his eyes above Geoffrey’s waist, until the hunter asked for his help in putting the pants on. They failed about thirty seconds in when Geoffrey realized the column-like legs of his trousers didn’t accommodate the new natural bend in his legs. Forced into no other choice, he enlisted Jonathan’s assistance with the damn kilt while he used the dresser to keep himself on his hooves. He had to adjust it over his tail which Jonathan expressed a curious question of concern on whether it was sensitive or not. (The answer was yes but Geoffrey refused to encourage him with an answer.)

It would take a lot of time and effort to get used to this new and hopefully temporary lifestyle but Geoffrey felt a warm light of hope that Jonathan would be there to make it a bit less miserable. Something about the ekon always made him relax and let his guard down, as much as the irony sang to him in regards to their sides, Jonathan was a determined and loyal friend. All his strange leechiness included. 

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued in another oneshot.


End file.
